


The words are like water

by Keenir



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: AU where Sif went to Svartalfheim with them in Thor 2 and that's just how it starts, Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Baby, Caesg, Gen, Loki and Odin make a deal, Starting Over, Thrudheim, every chapter opens with Thor's poetry, there was a pre-Movie baby too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-07 19:14:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keenir/pseuds/Keenir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki and Sif, starting over.  But even that's not going to be easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nayanroo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nayanroo/gifts).



> Happy New Year, _Nayanroo_!  
>  This was originally going to be your gift in Mischief  & Mistletoe, but I knew I wouldn't be able to finish it in time, and I asked for help on part of it in Tumblr.

_I shall tell you, my friends,_

_Of that which is most precious._

_Gems of the soul, gold of the heart;_

_Girding no axe can break,_

_Nor a hammer crush._

_But not unquailing._

_I, Thor, shall speak to you of love._

* * *

_The Kursed cut us both down with that which should have impaled it to death; taking us both because I did not move quickly enough to shoulder Loki aside enough to take the brunt myself._

_I took too long.  A moment.  Fractions of a moment, that kept me from fulfilling my duty and what I had agreed to do,_ Sif berates herself as she finishes checking the wound for anything which should not be inside when she seals it.  _But what else would fill my head in the wake of Loki’s admission?  Twas a distraction none of us needed._

“Go, the pair of you,” Sif tells Thor when he says they will help her and Loki before pursuing Malekith.  “This is the point of this quest, is it not?  Or would you see the Realms sundered and particulated now that your Jane is hale and whole?”

He shakes his head, denying that vigoriously.

Jane is staring at Loki as if she cannot believe he placed himself between her and an implosion grenade.

 _You look, Jane, as if you are weighing whether to proffer him a thanks,_ thinks Sif and says, “I will tend my wound, your brother will tend his, and we will join you when we can,” to Thor.

“Sif,” Thor says, eyes on her wound and not her eyes.

“Go!” she reiterates.  “We shall be fine.  Meet you back in Asgard for your Father’s Judgement.”  _Assuming the blade was neither shaped nor coated with toxins._

A long moment on his part before “I shall see you both there,” and he looks Sif in the eyes, then Loki.  And off he goes, departing with Jane.

“Loki?” Sif asked him once they were alone and the others had gone off to the caves.  She looked at where he sat, him busy plucking and flicking away bits of dirt and such which had embedded themselves in him over the course of being thrown and leaping so much in a single battle.  “Loki!”

“I hear you, Sif,” he said.  “Ever I hear you, never do I not.”

 _Fooled me._   “Do you require assistance reaching any of the wounds inflicted?”

“I do not require any, though do thank you for your offer, good Sif,” Loki said.    _And now it is back to service at Thor’s side for Sif.  And now it is back to the cage for me.  I could escape here, now, and make my way…where can I go, where I will not be found by either agents of Odin or agents of that Titan?  The cage is the safest place for me._

_I attempt to defend Asgard from the enemy Odin spoke most of, and I end falling through darkest broadest space into torture and control.  I attempt to demonstrate Thor’s unsuitedness to rule, and all turn against me; Sif at least made sense.   I have aided Thor in the fight against Malekith, as Thor asked of me, and yet…_

_Thor will get the glory.  Again.  Per usual._ Loki considered a sigh, but rejected it on the basis of his lungs and the attached muscles were too sore – _Sif would most certainly notice if I winced.  But then, perhaps that is more of the same: I should stop putting up a placid and unharmed face, as it has never once helped us, least where it mattered._

_At least the Midgardian humans fear me and hate me because of what I did, who I was bound into the service of.  They neither know nor may care that I reached for a throne and failed to attain it, earning me enemies – more enemies – in Asgard._

Well he remembered his earlier statement to the Dark Elves:  ‘I am Loki of Jotunheim.’  _Even the most monsterous of the Jotnar Tales readily admit that they have families…families which do not attempt to slay one another…families which do not give up on those they love._   He hung his head.  _A failure I am, as Asgardian and as Jotun._

Sif watched and hid her frown as she saw Loki seem to shrink and become smaller, turn into a thing more broken than even his imprisonment had.  _Loki?_

 


	2. Kings and Princes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Departing from Svartvalfheim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "eke" means "and" & "also" & "as well as".

_All have kin, all wights of all worlds._

_Sib is among etins, unique in the word;_

_Jarnsaxa did lay with Odin, thus bearing Heimdall_

  
_Eke eight others did lay with Odin, thus bearing Heimdall_ ;

_Sif Jarnsaxasdottir has for sib_

_Banehap Eistlasdottir has for sib Sif and_

_Erstlist Imthsson.  Say the aesir,_

  
_These are friends.  Say the etins_ ,

_Yes, friends, and sib._

* * *

Night never came to Svartalfheim.  Sif wondered if the Dark Elves had ever considered the irony of it, but suspected they didn’t have much free time to spend pondering it and any possible meaning to it.

“Watch that finger, Loki,” Sif warned.  Scraps of fabric had helped the flames reprocess the topsoil and shaped metals into serviceable plasters to patch up their wounds.  “Or I’ll remove it personally.”

“Underestimated the tenderness of your struck flesh, Sif,” Loki replied, being more careful in applying the plaster to where the Kursed had slapped her away; hard enough for Sif to feel as though her skin was aflame as it pressed into the depths of her bones.

 _That’s a first_ , she thought but did not say.

In the distance, hours ago, they had heard thunder and falling and punches between gods, climaxing in a ground-shaking bout of noise ‘like the mountain we destroyed on Alfheim’ Sif had said with a grin, and even feeling like he was about to die, Loki had grinned back, thinking on that better time.

“We have won,” Sif said now.

“A lack of the universe ending, did clue me in,” Loki agreed.  And frowned.

Knowing that look far too well, and ruing whatever ill portent for some unfortunate was about to transpire through his hands, Sif asked “What is it?”

“Jane,” Loki said.

Sif looked up and over at him, and the look in her eye and the position of her eyebrow asked the entirety of a question for her.

Which Loki answered: “Victorious, Thor will continue to pursue Jane the mortal of Midgard, unless Odin gives him my cell.   Rarely have I met any thinking creature whom the Allfather regards as lower than I.  He will not approve the match.”

Sif shrugged, then winced as that agitated the just-covered wound.  “The Allfather’s father was not exactly enamored with my mother’s lineage.”

Loki regarded her.  “Are you arguing in favor of or contrary to the mortal?”

“Yes.  A king has greater latitude than a prince, even when they are the same.”

“True, true.  Though it helps that a king is obeyed.”

Sif just looked at him.

“You could have been my queen,” Loki said to her.  “You could have been the queen, to whom I would have surrendered my throne, had that been your wish.”

“Never did I wish to be queen, Loki.  Not even yours.”

“Nor did you wish to keep our child ours; many times did I listen to your nightly plots to hand the babe over to one of your sib.  And what end came of those plans?”

“Naught,” Sif admitted.  “And death came to war’s own.”

Loki came over and placed himself alongside Sif, an arm wrapped around her shoulder; it was too small a comfort, but he could offer it.

“I am sorry,” Loki said, and both knew it was not an apology for the death, but for reminding.  It was akin to smiting a harmless fly with the Destroyer.  Loki closed his eyes and hung his head.

“Your point was valid,” Sif said, leaning against him, sliding one arm about him as well.

“Other comparisons, I could have used.”

“Yes.”

Neither of them counted how long they stayed like that, remained there on that patch of war-beaten and time-abandoned ground.  Eventually, they helped one another rise to their feet.

“I fear our use of the flyboat will be quite amusing – to anyone but us,” Loki remarked as they neared the little ship which they had used to bring themselves and Thor and Jane to this world.

“Do you know of any other ways into or out of this Realm?” Sif asked.

He thought a moment, tilting his head and lidding his eyes in a way that irked Sif’s heart which had grown used to not seeing fond memories alive outside her mind.  At last, he said “I dimly recall commiting a map to memory, one which showed a route from an isolated corner of Jotunheim to here.”

“And from Jotunheim to Asgard?”

“There is a route, but it ends beneath your quarters.”

“Ah,” Sif said.

“Not the room under yours, but the space of girders and bracings which keeps your quarters from moving down.”

“The flyboat seems the better option, then.” _And not simply from consideration of our aches._

Loki nodded.

They aided one another in the boarding process, politely paying no heed to the pained sounds which spouted up like whalebreath when they sat and reached for the rudder’s control.    Up rose the flyboat, into the air until it was deemed at sufficient height.

As she waited for Loki to do whatever he was up to, however he was plotting the course for their return to the Realm Eternal, Sif suspected _This may be the best time in a long time to sift through the embers of ever-treasured memory._

Loki made a sound she had not heard from him in all the time since their cares had burnt, the many tongues of flame in the mouth of loss. _Tired.  So very very tired._

“Would you object to Thrudgard being our destination?” Loki asked after some time, the flyboat inching along toward its eventual goal.

“I…have no objection.”  _Though every time Thor suggested the three of us hike out to your family estate in the country, you looked angry enough to slay him with a jawbone – likely as not his own._

Sensing the cause of her hesitation, Loki reached for the root: “I will never inherit the throne.  My days upon it were all I shall ever have.”  He looked to Sif, searching out eyes he wasn’t sure he could meet without flinching, without ducking away, but he tried to hold firm.  “I cannot rebuild what we had, the joys we shared, any of it, Sif.  But I would like to lay a new foundation.

“If you are agreeable.  I understand if you are not.”

Sif didn’t blink, didn’t flinch away from his gaze or his words.  The honesty in his words, a balm flowing over her,even stemmed as it is from utter exhaustion of spirit and body and even a bit of mind I feel. _“Our foundation is that we know one another, Loki, and we have never been able to destroy that_ ,” though each of us has tried.   “Let us smooth the foundation and make what we can, what we may.  Even if it amounts to nothing.”

 


	3. The meat of First Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Thrudheim, much happens.

_What has been lost, none wish to lose again;_

_Who would not slay the wind and noose the moon_

_If that was needed?  I have tasted loss and_

_Would sunder my treasured Hammer to never know that bite again._

_Verily I would loose the wolves of winter,_

_Break bread with fire, if it meant the safety_

_Of those I love._

* * *

The arrival in Thrudgard was uneventful in the dawning morning light as the moons skipped lightly in their circuit to the horizon.  During the descent to the ground, they found themselves curious why there was a tubbeast waiting in front of the door.  Otherwise their landing was likewise without remark, both in smoothness and the silence of both Sif and Loki, a fact which made Sif slightly nervous – when Loki is silent, he’s planning something, plotting for something.

They disembarked from the flyship and walked the distance to the cabin’s door.  Not fifty feet had passed before, “There is something weighing upon you, pressing down on your mind,” Sif said.  _Still.  Again.  Probably both._

“As we are beginning anew from the foundations, there is one answer I require.”

Sif nodded, knowing what was on Loki’s mind.  “The meat of our First Understanding.”

He nodded. 

Sif had said, when they were hammering it out, ‘I am so sworn.  Ever I serve you and your brother in my service to Asgard.  I will not bed an heir nor one enthroned; I will not even toy with the affections thereof, and I am sorry if I seemed to have done so before now.’

Asgard had ever been a land which ran as much on royal fiat as upon name and face and accomplishment – and to bear even a hint of favoritism could be crippling to one swimming against the current of how things were done.

As they made their way cabinwards, Loki and Sif came upon a few men in the road.

“Athelgangrs, I see,” Sif said: a small band of wanderers; and until the recent disruption in travel in the Realms, always perfect gentlemen.

“Morning, Lord.  Morning, Lady,” said one of the Athelgangrs.  “Care to share a meal here and now?”

“Not particularly,” Loki said.

“Well then, if you’re gonna be rude,” said Atheltwo.

 _Abusing the rules of guest-host to justify thievery?_ Sif wondered.  “Step aside,” she told them.

“You.  Shall.  Not.  Pass,” said Athelthree.

Sif rolled her shoulder, a prelude – Loki knew – to drawing her glaive or sword.

Atheltwo aimed a special sword at Loki’s throat – the sort which could fire its blade at a target.

Loki looked at it, his eyes following the lines of the wrought metals.

'Your birthright was to die!’ Odin had shouted at him.   _Certainly I could have died in my sleep in my cell in Asgard – much like Odin’s father died in the Borsleep, and how Bor’s daughter and heir is said to have died in her Vesleep shortly before Odin took the throne; that had made it all the more believable to Thor when I had said to him on Earth that Odin was dead: it had happened before.  And die I did, in my cell in Asgard, or near enough to death to shed my skin like a character of bygone tales.  Bor shed twice.  Heimdall is said to have shed once.  Sif has only moulted, her gleaming hair dropping away to be replaced the next day by the brown-and-black that she has kept to this day._

_And now, once more, is it my turn to die?  Very well.  But I shall have it my way._

“I _do_ feel a mite peckish,” Loki said, stepping up to Athelone.

“Good choice, kind sir.”

Loki placed his palm on Athelone’s chest, then curled his fingers around a fist-sized bundle he pulled away from Athelone who was now dropping to knees.  “Do you prefer your heart raw or well-done?  No?  What about you?” Loki asked Atheltwo.  “You?” asked of Athelthree.

“Last time you ate a heart, you got pregnant,” Sif reminded him.

“I said I felt pregnant,” Loki said.

“We’ll go!  We’ll go!” Atheltwo shouted.

“Good lads,” Sif said.  To Loki, “You can give it back now.”

“Oh very well,” Loki said, and whispered something to the bloody organ.  And then with a flick of the gripping hand, it went up in an all-consuming burst of flame.

“You -!” Athelone cursed.

“Your heart is transmigrating back into you,” Loki said patiently and with a condescension any Avenger would recognize.  “Don’t exert yourself for the next month – it’ll take that long to fully return.”

Atheltwo and Athelthree helped their friend up and served as his crutches as the three of them made as much haste as they could to get away from these two.

After they were gone from sight and earshot, Sif asked “Heart-stealing, Loki?”

“Merely the appearance thereof,” he said, pulling the heart out from air and letting it dissolve in green like any good illusion.  “For who would eat their compatriot’s heart with their assaulter ?”

“Feeling better, are we?” she asked, pleased at this sign that _Loki is back_.

“Much.”  _Much-ish_.

Nearly to the cabin now.

Thrudgard, a cabin or country estate on the world of Thrúthheim, spacially within the Realm of the Light Elves, politically solidly within the Realm of Asgard.  And that latter fact was part of what had kept it safe from the Light Elves – the other part…

Looking about them at the flow of landscape all around them, did remind Loki of something Odin had told him and Thor once when they were wee boys:  ‘In the moments before my father Bor pressed his attack, the leader of the Dark Elves Malekith looked up from Svartalfheim, seeing the Nine Realms overhead, visible because of the Convergence.’ _Ten Realms.  Once, there were eleven, but the last one was taken away by a race who once walked amongst us, and worked wonders here in Thrúthheim that made this land holy to Asgardians and to Light Elves.  An echo of the reason for that sacredness lay in how the landscape’s contour was smooth, like it was ice and like it was lava: no sharp edges, nothing abrupt or swift or sudden, everything was gradual._

The tubbeast, they saw, held in its wet hollow back, what humans would call a woman merfolk, _Loki observed._ One holding swaddled cloth in her dry arms.  “Are you a guest or a visitor staying here?” Loki asked, curious what her answer would be.

“I am a penitent,” she said, extending her arms to them.  “I have disproven my ability to care, and thus must not be mother to my child for at least a century.”

“And what makes you chose us?”

“More of here than you.  I am Ael of Rannkith, and three billion years ago, my family sheltered here when this swath of continent was underwater; thus I am certain my baby will be safe here.”

Fully expecting a trap, Loki held out his hands, and Ael placed the bundle in his grasp.  “I am -”

“Rescuer.  You both.  I thank you, on behalf of myself and all Rannkith.”  She clicked, and the tubbeast rose to its rhino-eque height and ambled away from Sif and Loki and the baby in his arms.

Opening the door, and holding it so Loki and the child could enter, Sif steals a glimpse of the baby, all carved smoothness and inky eyes.  Her heart felt pride and warmth that there was once more a little life in the shelter of capable arms.

Seeing the smile form and stay on Sif’s face – a small smile but a present one – Loki was tempted to let it go unremarked, but true to his word, “Amusement is meet and good, an explanation would be meet and better,” he said.

“Always and ever were you a good father,” Sif says quietly as the door shuts, the three of them inside.  “And you will be again,” she adds before he can drown in the memories of how his fatherhood had ended the last time, the first time.

Loki looks from her to the baby.  “Do you have a name?” he asks the infant, who coos at him.

“May I be so bold as to suggest Narvi?  The name of your mother’s brother.”

At hearing the first word, Sif and Loki stopped where they were, and slowly approached the doorway to the next room, where they saw

“Allfather,” Sif said, kneeling, hiding what few winces remained now that she was nearly completely healed.

“Allfather,” Loki said, staying on his feet.  “Did Heimdall or your ravens tell you to find us here?”

“Neither,” Odin said, and approached them, silently bidding Sif to rise.  Odin looked at the baby, then leaned over and peered closely at it, offering it a finger to play with, which it gleefully held.

“Troubled, Allfather?” Loki asked.

“On the contrary.  Simply surprised, though this certainly is an apt week for this manner of surprise.”

“Another ancient enemy back from extinction?”

“A caesg,” Odin said.  “Believed by all to have vanished during the Alfen Civil War.”

 _After Bor’s victory over the Dark Elves, and before the Asgard-Vanir War; a conflict which engulfed all of Alfheim but this world here.  A time when the fortunes of Rann began their decline.  An age when the clan of Queen Memgloth reigned over many worlds now protected by Vanaheim and Asgard._   “I have given my word to watch over this one.  I will not be swayed.”

“Nor would I ask you to.  Caesgs are signs of good fortune, with or without their tails.”

“And signs of other things, no doubt.  But you mention fortune for a reason.  What brings you here, Allfather?”

“I seek you to be king of Asgard for a time.”

Loki looked at him.

“Verily I speak truth, Loki,” Odin said.  “I have not walked the narrower pathways of the Realms for far too long, and do mean to correct that.  And so, I shall do so; in my absence, you will rule.”

“Not Thor?” Loki asked.

“Not Thor,” Odin confirmed.  “Your brother is too enmeshed with his new friends and with Jane Foster, to be able to resist lavishing kingly benefaction upon them.  You -”

“Have no friends.”

“Have far fewer loyalists to your name than does he.  Like myself when I took the throne of Asgard, those whom I could reward numbered fewer than the fingers of one hand.”

_Is this comparison meant to encourage me to agree?_

“Anything you decree, I shall abide by when I am returned.  Anything you decree regarding Thor, will also apply to yourself.”

“I am so cautioned.  And is there no other who could sit upon your throne?  I do doubt I was your first choice.”

“In this, you were first, Loki,” Odin said.  “As you were before Thor received Mjolnir.”

Loki just barely kept from snorting his disbelief that he was ever considered first in line to succeed the Allfather.

“But, in answer to your question, there is your mother.”

“Ah, but which one, Allfather?  Do you speak of Frigga, who is dead?  Or of the Jotuness who birthed the whelp you took home?”

Loki took a step back at the cold glare in Odin’s eye.  Said Odin, “You will not speak of her in such a way.”

“Defensive?  Quite the shock.”

“As was she.”

Into the silence of Loki, did Odin say, “One week, Loki.  At week’s end, I shall be returned and rested; and you may go wherever you wish to go, with my boon and blessing.  And answers to all you ask.”

“Such generosity, Allfather,” Loki said.

“Your actions on Svartalfheim were witnessed.  You have paid the price for your misdeeds of recent years.”

“Though I should certainly still avoid Midgard for the next century.”

“Certainly so, though I would say two.”    _Their lifespans are getting longer by their count.  And their defenders have lives which will be longer yet._

In answer, Loki let a shaped illusion surround him, the visage of Odin looking out from where Loki stood but no longer seemed to stand.  “Shall this be sufficient?” Loki asked with Odin’s voice.

“One thing is missing,” said the real Odin.  “Gungir,” and handed Loki the staff.  “One -”

“Question,” Loki said.  “This I ask you, Odin, Bor’s son, Frigga’s love, One-eyed, Most High and Highest and Third.   The child born to myself and Sif…was its nature as much a lie as my own?”

 _And here I feared you would ask me a difficult question._ “No,” Odin said.   He reiterated, “One week,” and vanished as soon as Loki had gripped Gungir.

“Hm,” Sif said.  “Narvi,” tasting the name on her tongue.  And saying nothing – a pointed nothing, to Loki’s mind – about the enthronement.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone goes to Asgard.
> 
> {DISCLAIMER: in six days, I will/may take this story down; my apologies to any who are reading; but I wrote this for M&M, and it no longer applies...and the muse is dying, again}

_There is a richness in variety, many hearts people the Realms._

_My heart kneels to a human soul,_

_My father’s knelt to an etin soul,_

_Neither may be denied._

**~**

Loki watched Sif carefully and with as much subtlety as he possessed, making sure as they readied themselves for the journey to Asgard that she would not do better staying in Thrudgard for a few more days to finish recuperating.

The Bifrost opened once the three of them – he, she, and Narvi – had stepped a little away from the cabin, and brought them with characteristic swiftness to stand before Heimdall.  Loki waited, half expecting…

 _Not sure what I’m expecting_ , Loki thought as Heimdall remained silent.  _That he has not a word about or against my disguise, tells me Odin informed him beforehand – our good Gatekeeper ever could see though all my guises.  All but one._   “All fares well, Heimdall?” Loki asked with Odin’s face and Odin’s voice.

“All is well,” Heimdall answered.

“Good,” Odin said, and, carrying the infant, walked with Sif towards Gladsheim.

When only halfway there, they came across Njord and Sigyn deep in conversation – though not so deep that their discussion failed to stop at once.  “Allfather…” Njord and Sigyn said, each dropping to a knee before him, their conversation shelved for however long this would be.

“Sif?” Sigyn asked.

Sif wasn’t sure whether to smile or groan that, _And of course your eyes pick out the one detail that everyone else’s would overlook when they could simply see the Allfather._

“Is something the matter?” Odin asked Sigyn.

“Nothing, Allfather,” Sigyn said swiftly.

“The infant,” Tyr prompted.

 _Tyr’s been Odin’s right hand and emissary since before I or Thor were born, Loki knew.  If anyone could speak to Odin without a filter or a net, it would be him and Frigga._ Speaking as Odin, he said, “I brought back Sif and Loki from the battlefield of Svartalfheim, and during our return, came upon an abandoned infant.”

Tyr didn’t even blink.

“Until the rightful parents come for it, I shall entrust its care to Loki and Sif,” Odin said.  “It had been my intention to declare this during the feast, but now the two of you know in advance – do not spoil the surprise others will have.”

“Of course,” Tyr said.

“I would never dare do so, Allfather,” Sigyn said, eyes on the ground.

“Good,” Odin said, and headed onwards towards Gladsheim.  “Loki should be along shortly.”

 _Now would be an ideal time to speak with my mother, or at least my grandmother,_ Sif considered. _Returning from a victorious venture, the first threads of rebuilding in hand, and a ward placed in my charge.  But the ward and threads are also reason to remain with Loki, and put off speaking with my kin or my sib for yet longer._ So she continued following along behind ‘Odin’, further toward the palace building.

Halfway between Sigyn and the palace doors, “Sif!”

Odin glanced over and saw who was approaching.  Under his breath to Sif, he said “I shall see you inside, I hope,” and continud onwards before she could reply.

Sif turned and saw “Banehap,” Sif said, greeting one of her sib.  “Curious to see you in Asgard.”

“Oh immensely so,” he said.  “But an architect of my skill set and mastery was required, so I was summoned.  And… last I heard, our prince said he was leaving the battlefield of Rhia to join you on Vanaheim.”

“He won the day on Vanaheim,” Sif said.  “And on Rhia?”

“He turned the tide, but not enough to make it a crushing victory.  We lost three sib, Sif, as well as half the Einherjar allotted to thattheater of war.”

“Battle,” she corrected.

Banehap gave her the sort of eyeroll she had been known to use against the princes.  “Please.  The war against Jotunheim filled three planets; this recent ‘fracas’ occupied twelve.”

“Allfather Odin knows what of what he speaks,” Sif said.

‘Our mothers are the only reason he was able to bring war to Valand’ was what Banehap nearly said.  Instead, he struck nearer to the heart: “You’re more like Heimdall every time we meet, always fawning in your obeisance to the Allfather every time I see you.”

“I am loyal.”

“As am I.  As are all our sib.  But there is more to life than loyalty – a fact you forgot.”

Sif used her free hand to grab Banehap by his throat.  _I can’t choke him, but I can make a point._    “Is there a point to all this, sib of mine, or are you seeking an end?  If the latter, I can recommend places with sufficient bloodshed.”

“My mistake,” he answered.  “All but two of our sib are loyal.  Pushed too far, Sif.”

A brisk nod and letting go of his throat.  “I know.  One of them was on Vanaheim.  Erstlist.”

“Then in Erstlist’s memory, we shall part company, sib of mine,” Banehap suggested.

“We shall,” Sif agreed.  “It is my hope that none of the rest of our sib, even you or I, fall so far as Erstlist did.”

Banehap walked away.

Once he had gone into a crowd, Sif returned to heading for Gladsheim.

**~**

By the time she arrived outside the feasting hall, it was clear to her that ‘Odin’ had told everyone about her and Loki’s survival and about their custodianship of the baby – _omitting its Caesg nature_ , Sif noted.

Odin then left the room, handed Sif the child, and continued on alone.

Not sure how much Sif had heard, and wishing to be of aid, “The Allfather just pronounced his recognition of yourself and Prince Loki to be custodians and guardians of the infant Narvi,” Sigyn said, summarizing it, and moved to be on her way, when –

“Sigyn?” Sif asked.

“Yes, good Lady?” Sigyn asked, wondering why Sif would chose to start a conversation with her, and thus Sigyn’s wielding the Dwarven-given title like a shield.

“I…have need of your assistance.”

Sigyn blinked but did not move, her expression clearly betraying her thought: _This is a trick.  Never ever, she long ago swore, she would never need help, most particularly never from me_.

“Little Narvi requires someone to carry him, and I will not always be able to do so, nor might Loki.”

“And clean him and change him and fuss over him,” Sigyn said, her voice and expression becoming more delighted by the syllable.

“I could find another if you feel it would be too stressful or exacting,” Sif offered.

“I submit myself to service as infantcarrier.”  And as Sif handed him over, “Hello, little Narvi,” Sigyn cooed at him.  “Aren’t you precious?  Yes you are.  Yes you are.”

“Don’t get all mortal over him.  It’s time to eat,” Sif said, and they three went to the dining hall.

Loki met them at the doors, a tired smile draped across his face, and he stepped in alongside the two women.

Magni stepped in front of Loki and Sif less than a minute since when they entered the dining hall.  Magni looked at them with doubt in his eyes.  “You both…?” and did not bother trying to finish his statement.

“The fosterling placed in our care,” Loki said.  “Was that your question?”

“You’re together – the two of you – for the child’s sake?” Magni asked.

“You sound skeptical.”

“Can you find fault in my skepticism?”

“No,” Loki granted.

“And you, Lady Sif?” Magni asked, using her title not as a shield but as a politeness, a condolence almost.

“Things change,” Sif answered him.

A very skeptical look was his reply.

“He will change,” Sif said.  “We all change.”

“Even yourself?” Magni asked as he stepped away from them and went to his seat further down the table than they were to sit at.

“Particularly myself.  When I was young and possessed hair like a golden flail, I could see in all directions.  Mortals blame you falsely, Loki, for ending that stage of my life.  A change in hair was just simply one more step toward maturation.”   _I shed my hair; my good fortune that there was more to replace it – unlike what befell good Tyr who had no new hand ever again._

“You don’t miss it?” Sigyn asked.

“Seeing people standing behind me?” Sif asked back; her tutors had taught her that it was not an uncommon ability in the flora and fauna of the various Realms – Midgard’s brittlestars had a short and prickly version of Sif’s hair, for example – it was simply rare in intelligences.

“Having perfect hair.  Everyone says yours was finest and best of all, even Freya said so.”

 _Freya was drunk, I imagine, to say so where people could hear her._   “I like my hair now,” Sif said.

**~**

Loki excused himself from the feasting after a while, citing a tiredness which stemmed from Svartalfheim-inflicted wounds.  Odin arrived in the dining hall shortly after that, to the cheering of all.

 _The appearance of Odin,_ Sif knew.  Knew it was Loki in truth.

**~**

After the feast, Sif went to the quarters which had been readied a millennia ago by Queen Frigga in preparation for a third child who never came, and had been given to Loki and Sif for the purpose of caring for the infant Narvi.

Politely dismissing Sigyn at the door, and carrying Narvi in herself, Sif looked around this room she had never been in – suspected even Loki and Thor had never spent more than a day’s worth of time in here over the course of their entire lives.  Faint pinpricks of illumination shone from every wall and ceiling, while somber colors dominated everything.   Playthings like serpents and bears perched on every available surface, leatherskin and stuffed toys alike.

Fur carpeting across every bit of floor.

A bed for parents, and for the child when old enough.

Narvi burbled.

Loki’s head rose, looking to them.

Sif looked from Narvi to Loki.

He looked back.

“Are we going to discuss it?” Sif asks him.

Loki looked at her, gauging what he sees and recalls of how much wine she had taken during the meal.   _Answer: not enough to be tipsy or glassy-eyed, she’s too good at avoiding those; but just enough to loosen her tongue into verboseness._   “Are you not sleepy?  I certainly am.”

“We shall have this discussion, my – king,” coughing before the title.  “If not now, then tomorrow; if not then, then the day following.”

 _And you are tireless when you pursue anything you fix in your sights, I well know._   “Very well,” and Loki’s pupils contracted as he made some gesture at the door with one hand, the balcony with his other hand.  “Now, now we are alone in the chambers of the thirdborn, and will you tell me what you wanted to ask?”

“Yes,” Sif said.    _Suspecting greater security has been enplaced now._ “What you said on Svartalfheim.”

“I said many a thing on Svartalfheim,” Loki said.

“This is true, my prince, good Loki of Jotunheim.”

 _Ah._ “That thing.”

“That thing.  It held too much anger to be a ploy, too harsh to be a feint,” Sif said.

“You can be so certain, after my imprisonment and what befell me in my absence from the Realms?”

“A curiosity, then, that your ferocity strongest in the ‘of’ and your anger was richest in the name Jotunheim.”

“I have many talents,” Loki said.

“Also true,” Sif said, fondly remembering a handful of them.  If any of those recollections reached her eyes or lips, Loki did not remark upon it.  “If it is a lie, as you seem to imply now, why did you pick Jotunheim, of all the Realms?”

“History,” Loki said.

 _Ah_.  “Jotuns fought the Dark Elves before and after the rise of Malekith, before and alongside Asgard.”

 _And that Kursed looked at me in my cell, and did not let me out;_ and he said as much.“Thus I planted the seeds of doubt over his own judgement, his very senses – what did he see when he freed all but me?”

“And here I was concerned,” Sif said.

Deep within himself, Loki’s blood ran cold, figuratively speaking.  “I always welcome concern, the moreso from you, good Sif,” he said, covering.

“I had wondered if your imprisonment – and any of the events of your absence – had worn down your talent for misdirection.  Verily, I had entertained the notion that it was your nearly dying which spurred a revival in your mind of that talent.”

“More a strengthening than a revival, I would think,” Loki said.

“I am always pleased to hear of you recovering, Loki.”  _Whatever else may pass between us, that is always true._   “And now it is late, and we should head for bed,” picking up the baby.  “Goodnight, my prince,” she said to Loki, and was heading to the door –

Loki disappeared, and reappeared leaning against the door.  “No.”

“You are king for a week, Loki,” Sif said.  “You need rest to rule well tomorrow.”

“Oh I’m not disputing that.”

“Then what?” she asked.

“The child stays here, with me.  You may leave for separate quarters if you wish, but leave the infant.”

“And this judgement is based upon…?”

“Stay the night, then,” Loki said, walking away from the door and to the great bed, then paused.  “The two of you can use the bed.  I will make do elsewhere in this room.”

Sif blinked.  _Loki never – No, Loki never just abandoned an argument early on, never gave in so swiftly…unless he thought it would end favorably for him after all thought him to have lost the argument.  Or, at least, thus the old Loki did._   “Very well,” and she went to the bed, taking the baby with her.

Throwing a blanket over herself, after first laying a smaller one over the baby, Sif loosened her clothes but did not change or undress.

Taking a seat in the resting chair Loki remembered Odin sitting in with both boys in his lap – _far far ago in our youth_ – Loki looked at the resting hills on the royal bed: one was an infant, the other was Sif most loyal.  _I vowed a change, a new beginning.  Simplest perhaps to grip the Casket of Ancient Winters where she can see it, that would answer her question.  Though her loyalty is to Asgard and not any given member of the royal family – what would she do to me upon learning that I am in fact Jotun?_

Loki did not fall asleep until much later.

 


	5. Dreams

_Of the Prideful Races, there are three:_

_Etin, Asgardian, Jotun._

_From the humble Fornjonr do we come,_

_Together we fought the Dark Elves_

_Til the Disappearance Of Malekith._

_Will we once again be one_

_In unity and agreement?  I_

_Know not._

**_~_ **

**_LOKI’S  DREAMS  THAT NIGHT:_ **

_Clearly this is a dream – I’m alone in the bedroom, in my Jotun form, and Sif is about to walk in_ , and Loki observed that his magic didn’t work even for so little a thing as a basic illusion.

Sif entered, and the door closed behind her.  She looked at Loki standing beside the door to the balcony, eyeing the ridges and hues of his nearly-naked self, and her eyes narrowed.

_I can at least hope she will afford me a quick death_ , Loki thought right before Sif charged at him.

She didn’t draw any weapons as she barreled towards him, but leaped at him and let him cushion her landing upon the bed behind them, and immediately setting her hands upon him, undoing his ties and stays.

_But the bed was on the other side of the… More proof this is a dream,_ Loki mused, then the thought was torn from him as Sif continued unbuckling his armor.  _Armor?_

She stuck her tongue just the tiniest bit out – adorably in his estimation – as she focused on her self-appointed task.

**_~_ **

He and Sif were arguing.  The matter: the baby Narvi.

 “You don’t trust me, do you, Loki?” dream Sif asked him.

“You I trust more than any other.”

“But not with an infant.”

“So long as I breathe, I will protect the child.”

“Because I’m incompetent.”

“Never.”

“Then why?”

Loki was silent for a long while that Sif waited through.

Eventually it was too much even for her, and she turned to leave.

He set a hand upon her shoulder, pleading with his touch for her to wait a moment more; she complied.  “Because having given my word to do this, I don’t trust _myself_ to not be the one minding the child.”

**_~_ **

Loki stepped into the feasting hall, entirely empty it was but for him and for Sif – who was sitting at the table, waiting for him.

“Your note said you wished to see me,” Loki said, curious what she wished to say to him in this dream.

“I wrote it so because it is so,” Sif said.

He joined her at the table, and before he could do more than open his mouth to ask, she was on him – kissing and taking his breath as she had done in times past…though never in such a public place as this.

She pushed him back so he lay flat upon the feasting bench, and shucked his clothes off him like a corn husk.

As they continued, a part of Loki’s mind – the corner which never joined in the revelry or passion, the corner which kept alert for potential interuptors approaching and other trouble – noticed that something was happening to him.  Something was leeching from his skin, and…

Loki’s eyes went wide when he saw Sif slowly turning blue and grooved, becoming a Jotun.  “Sif,” he breathed, in awe and fear and confusion.

Always always, in the past, her eyes had turned solid black in their heated moments.  Now it was red eyes which looked upon Loki in what should have been a warmly fond glance.  “I always know what I’m doing, Loki.”

“You’re -  Why would you…?”

“As you say, my love, my prince, a Frost Giant cannot sit upon the throne of Asgard,” Sif answered.

_I said that to Odin and Odin alone._ “So you’re…you’re taking it upon yourself?”  _Taking the Jotun out of me and putting it in yourself?_

“I am and I do.”

**~**

**SIF’S  DREAM  THAT  NIGHT:**

She had been summoned to the Observatory, and came as was asked of her.   “Is something the matter, Heimdall?” Sif asked.

“I have been considering,” Heimdall said.  “I am willing to be convinced – describe Loki to me, and I may regard him more kindly,” with the unspoken ‘or at least not wish him dead every time he touches you, Sif.’

Once, such a request would have gladdened her; now wariness and acceptance mingled in her at the hearing of that.  “Loki is –“

“Hold,” Heimdall said, dropping his sword in front of her.  “Continue.”

_Lie-Preventer,_ Sif recognized the blade.  And the hilt too, she recognized: _Dissembler-Avoider._  “Loki is loyal – to Asgard, ultimately.  More particularly to Odin our king and master…a loyalty and a desire to please, overshadowing even the oaths Loki swears to.”  _Does he see it?  Does he think them all equally accomplishable?  I came here with him because of our agreement to try again, and my word that I would help care for Narvi.  But Odin has but to mention…_

“Thank you, sib, Sif,” Heimdall said, “you may go.  I shall weigh your words and decide.”

_And now I have to face the words I have half-muffled in my throat since we left Thrudgard,_ Sif knew as she returned to waking.


End file.
